


Missing Carson

by Riva (vocative)



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Sappy, Sickfic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-13
Updated: 2006-03-13
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:55:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vocative/pseuds/Riva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney has a bad cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Carson

**Author's Note:**

> Have mercy--I was a terrible writer when I was younger. These are archived as cautionary tales.

He missed Carson.

Oh, sure, his lover was busy futzing with something under his microscope in the next room over, but he wasn't *there*. Even earlier, when Carson had sat by his bed, his hand on Rodney's forehead, fingers stroking ever so slightly, he had missed Carson. The awful mess of pure *ick* that was clogging his nasal passages had oh-so-thoughtfully migrated into his lungs the day before, warranting him a place in the infirmary under Carson watchful eye. There was nothing quite like going to bed with a cold and waking up with what felt to Rodney like an invading phlegmism army in his chest. The first tentative cough that morning had turned into a nastiness that he didn't particularly wish to remember and had woken Carson, sealing his fate. Being sick was no fun. Lying under the sea of soft white covers in the infirmary bed, Rodney ached to move, but his body refused to cooperate in any reasonable fashion. Feeling utterly miserable, Rodney shifted cautiously and croaked his lover's name. Soft rustlings in the otherwise quiet room, told him that Carson was coming to check on him, as was right and proper, of course. Soft footfalls stopped at his bed and he opened his eyes.

"What is it?" Carson asked quietly, eyes flicking unconsciously to the monitors.

I miss you," Rodney replied hoarsely.

Carson sat down in the chair he had pulled up earlier. "I'm just in the next room over. Can you sleep?"

"No. I'm dying."

"No you're not. I'll stay with you till you fall asleep, if you like."

Rodney closed his eyes and nodded a fraction. Carson's hand resumed its place on his forehead and the slow, gentle movements of his fingers soothed Rodney more than all the medicines. As he lie there drifting, Rodney again thought of how much he missed Carson. More than just the strong presence, or even the soft, knowing strokes helping him to relax, he missed the slight tang of too much antiseptic mixed with shower gel that smelled blue, somehow, and the indefinable scent of Carson, the way he could almost taste him. His mind fuzzing with sleep, Rodney thought to himself that the one thing he disliked the most about being sick was missing Carson. Better get...well...soon...

**Author's Note:**

> For mice, on the occasion of sickness.


End file.
